


The Burns

by illyriantremors



Series: Shadowsinger: An Azriel/Moriel Fic [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Burns, Depression, Fire, Pain, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8015473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyriantremors/pseuds/illyriantremors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azriel is dragged outside unexpectedly on his 8th birthday by his two step-brothers who proceed to set his hands on fire. Pain, suffering, and shadows ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Burns

_“Let it bleed, and take the red for what it’s worth. Watch the fire fill your lungs with smoke for the last time. If you feel like dying you might want to SING.”_

_-_ __The Used_ _

* * *

 

I needed to go to the bathroom.

That was when the cell was the worst. They wouldn’t ever let me out to pee. When I was smaller, I would cry for a really long time until the pain in my stomach hurt so much, I had to let it out.

No one ever came.

I didn’t mind it so much except for the smell. On a clean day, I wouldn’t smell it after a few minutes, but after a week of it sitting on the cement floor, it would take hours before my nose would clear again.

My half-brothers liked to rub my face in it sometimes. They thought it was funny. But their mother - not mine - she couldn’t stand it. In the pale light of the torches lining the hallway outside my cell, I could see her nose pinch up whenever she opened the door to let me out for an hour. When she would bring me back, the cell was spotless again.

That’s why bleach became my favorite smell. It meant clean. It meant safe.

The smell wasn’t so bad today. But the sharp feeling in my gut was tightening.

It had been a really, really long time since I had last gone outside. Or I thought it had been. I figured I could hold on for another couple of hours. I’d gotten really good at that. Maybe if I tried harder today, I’d make it outside before I had to go.

I took a deep breath and rolled over on my cot. Shifting positions sometimes helped. The metal whined as my body moved.

I didn’t want to sleep. I sometimes did nothing but sleep. And closing my eyes seemed pointless when the pictures I’d seen were the same as when they were open: dark, dark black. A darkness so dense, I couldn’t see my own hand even when it was touching my face.

A dull thud carried down the hall. I could hear it even through the door, which was heavy and solid oak. I learned to ignore most sounds while I stayed in the cell. If I concentrated on them too much, I’d get too hopeful. But this sound was followed by another shortly after: snickering.

The lock on my door turned and my eyes squinted even with the torch light burning so low. My half-brothers stood in the doorway, their giant wings casting huge shadows on the wall behind them. It was the only feature we had in common. You would have never known we shared a father otherwise.

Wicked grins stretched out on their faces as they spotted me and I wanted to groan. I think their mother hated me more than they did, but she was easier taking me out than they were. I tried not to let them see my anxiety. They were meaner when they saw it.

“Happy birthday little batty boy,” one of them said, a cruel delight in how he said it.

Birthday.

Today was my birthday and I didn’t even know. Maybe my mother would be here today when they took me out. She tried to always be there on the only special day I got. It was only special to me, though, because I got to see her.

“What do you think, brother? Shall we give him a birthday gift this year?”

“Of course!” the other said, rubbing his hands together before stepping inside my cell. “I’m rather looking forward to it, actually.”

My heart lurched for a moment, hope betraying me that maybe I would get lucky and my mother would be there, but then my half-brothers grabbed me roughly enough to throw me hard against the cement and I knew it was a lie. I was stupid to have thought anything but.

My body slammed against the floor. I felt my face rub into a tacky goo that smelled like pee and I almost vomited. But they picked me up before I could heave and half dragged, half carried me out of the cell.

I tried to kick, but fighting never worked. It certainly didn’t today. My step-brother caught my foot and laughed. “Look! Little baby batty wants to play!”

He cocked his fist back and slammed it into me. I heard a horrible _snap!_ in my nose before the same hand sunk into my ribs. A new punch made by the other one’s foot collided on my back.

They cackled together at my already defeated body between them. In a matter of minutes, we were outside, the harsh cold of winter beating down on my skin. I tasted iron in my mouth from all the blood coming out my nose.

Suddenly, I was on the ground, their hands off of me.

“Let’s see what happens you mix Illyrian magic with a little heat,” my step-brother said.

My hands were plunged into two buckets until they were covered in water up to my forearms. The water was thick and had a strange smell to it. I pressed my fingers together swirling it around a bit and realized what it was.

Not water, but oil.

My body shot up on what little strength it had left from small meals and the beating I’d already received, but it was too late. Just as I cried, _“NO!”_ the buckets went up in flames.

Pain tore through me unlike anything I had ever felt before. Sitting underneath the trees for an hour every day at that pole so I could freeze in the wind was nothing compared to this. I could feel my skin flake and peel as the fire crippled my hands and I fell on the ground shaking.

And I screamed.

I screamed for myself. I screamed for the sun and my wings beneath it. I screamed for my mother.

But no one came.

Tears dried up the second they fell as the heat of the flames climbed higher on my arms, gobbling them up in the steam. The smoke rose higher and higher on me, wrapping me up like a snake about to choke on its meal. It was so thick and so black, my entire body must have been burning, but it traveled in a way the darkness of my cell did not. There was a dance to the way it moved - and it _was_ moving, as if on its own accord. As if it were _alive_.

I was near to passing out from the pain at my hands as my screaming continued. I called for my father, but even he did not come. My head felt light and I was going to drop, but that darkness reached for me. A shadow passed in front of my face before it poured itself into my nose and mouth. A sharp crack whipped through my brain and I saw the shadow cover my eyes, like a filter I could see through. And then, a voice spoke as if from inside my own ear.

 _“Azzzzzzzriel_ ,” it said.

It terrified me, that noise. It was soft and menacing all at the same time and I never wanted to hear it again. And then as fast as it had come, it was gone.

A shout far outside myself rang out across the yard. Flames licked my elbows and everything went dark.


End file.
